


"and i'm down to forget."

by tmmyPog (napkinz)



Series: DSMP Time Travel/World Jump AU [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ...probably, Curses, Dead Toby Smith | Tubbo, Gen, Good Friend Karl Jacobs, Good Friend Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Good Friend Toby Smith | Tubbo, Hurt No Comfort, Let me dream, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Raccoon Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sam | Awesamdude is a good dad figure :], Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, TommyInnit Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Nearly Dies (Video Blogging RPF), Touch-Starved TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), no beta as always smh, they are all touch starved ur honor, they deal with their trauma together :], this fic is just a bunch of times tommy's sent back to his home timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-23 11:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30055029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/napkinz/pseuds/tmmyPog
Summary: Tommy wasn’t alone, even though everyone he knew from his home timeline had died or just straight up disappeared from the universe. He had Ranboo. Tubbo, before he, too, died. Karl Jacobs.or, sometimes Tommy gets sent back to his home timeline. He spends his time there thinking.title is from "Snow" by Ricky Montgomery.
Relationships: IT'S ALL IMPLIED SMH, No Romantic Relationship(s), Past Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit & Karl Jacobs, Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit, it's implied :], that's implied too
Series: DSMP Time Travel/World Jump AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210973
Comments: 2
Kudos: 78





	1. Tundra

Once upon a time, a happy family lived peacefully in a cottage surrounded by snow and a forest. During the summer months, which were very rare and short, there would be pens full of cows and sheep, and every now and then, chickens and pigs. Behind the cottage had been a small area for plants for other foods to grow. This cottage had been abandoned long ago. As far as Tommy knew, nobody had gone back since he and Wilbur left to grow into their own people and join servers outside of their home servers.

Tommy was always reminded of the cottage whenever he’d be put back into his home timeline of the Dream SMP. More specifically, whenever he was placed in a snowy biome or around Technoblade’s base in the Tundra. The house Technoblade had built with his own two hands and some tools had become… less than ideal to look at, over time, with no one to live in it and care for it properly. There were cracks and holes in the walls and stone foundation, and any wood had at least started to rot away. Tommy knew, in this timeline’s reality, it hadn’t been that long since this timeline had been wiped clean of any life, but for Tommy himself, it had been… decades, possibly. Tommy had started losing count after a while.

Tommy wasn’t alone, even though everyone he knew from his home timeline had died or just straight up disappeared from the universe. He had Ranboo. Tubbo, before he, too, died. Karl Jacobs. Sometimes Tommy would accidentally attach himself to other people, which he always blamed on himself. It was always his fault for letting himself get vulnerable. He let himself with Ranboo, Tubbo, and Karl, mainly because he “met” them when he first started getting put in different timelines and such, because they helped him and he almost always saw them. The rare times they didn’t get to travel together was when they were sent back to their home timelines. They only started getting sent back to their home timelines after Tubbo died, though. Tubbo’s curse made it a nightmare to try to get alone time between any of them. For that reason, they did their best to solve the conflicts they had with each other very quickly after they started. Nowadays, it was hard for any of them to get mad at each other because of their practice. The last time they’d been actively mad at each other was the time pretty directly after Tubbo died.

They, the time travelers, collectively had their own curses. They assumed it had been due to their home timelines making it so they could no longer  _ be _ in their home timelines, without the possibility of being corrupted along with the timeline itself, but who knows?

Tommy had been the first to point it out when he noticed the trend between the four (now three) of them. He’d first seen it with Karl, then Ranboo, then Tubbo, and then it clicked for him that these quirks simply were not supposed to be normal.

Tommy’s curse (one of them) is having features similar to a raccoon, something that, over time, he realized wasn’t so much of a curse as he thought it to be. Though, that was because it was hand in hand with him being “cursed” with shapeshifting powers. It made it easier to sneak around timelines he wasn’t supposed to be seen in. (Even if, in most timelines, raccoons weren’t even a thing.) Tommy’s secondary curse is him constantly crying. There’s no way to stop this one, as far as he knows, and this one is definitely more of a curse than the shapeshifter hybrid thing is. It made it so much easier for him to get dangerously dehydrated, and it always just made him look pathetic. Yeah. This one’s definitely more of a curse.

Ranboo’s curse just so happens to be that his makes him part Enderman. In Tommy’s home timeline, his Ranboo had always been an Enderman, as far as anyone in the timeline knew… so, Tommy hadn’t exactly noticed it at first. Then Ranboo had brought up his Memory Book™ and read a bit that says that in his timeline, he’d only ever had slight sensitivity to water, and he used to look significantly more human than he does now.

Tubbo’s curse had been the thing that killed him. It’s hard for any of the travelers to talk about, or even think about, but sometimes they’ll let themselves think, even if it just leads to them blaming themselves. Tubbo’s curse made it so, no matter what, within ten to fifteen minutes of being separated from any of the other travelers, the wither took over his body and killed him slowly. It was impossible to save him after they had already been separated. Tommy finds it ironic that he used to call Tubbo clingy, and Tubbo’s curse was that he had to be clingy, or he died. Sometimes, Tommy would blame himself by saying or just thinking that it was his fault because he’d manifested it into the universe.

Karl’s curse is a weird one, to say the least. All they know about it is that any color from anything he wears fades over a certain amount of time as he’s wearing it. Sometimes, the colors will turn grayer, but that’s on days when Karl is more stressed out or angry. The colors usually fade to a light gray or white.

Collectively, they all have a curse that gives them major memory loss. They all have their journals, but they all have (or had, in Tubbo’s case) different things to help them remember some things. Ranboo’s the only one that uses his journal as they intended it, Tommy and Tubbo rarely use(d) theirs, and Karl only uses pins and patches and some jewelry to help him remember who his friends and family are.

Tommy has a hard time remembering people other than Ranboo, Tubbo, and Karl. He’s thankful that he can’t forget about Michael and Sam, no matter how hard his curse tries. Karl likes to call it spite, or true willpower, but Tommy just thinks they're too important to forget.

Tommy sighs, leaning his back on the spruce stairs behind him. That was enough thinking about the same thing over and over again for the day, he thinks.

Tommy mostly uses his time in his home timeline to think over things, recollect himself, and find new strategies in case they come across a new problem or they need a new solution for something. This time, however, Tommy’s a bit too tired from their last “mission” to think about anything new. Instead, he’d rather use this time to himself wisely and simply let himself think.

The boy (could he be considered a boy, anymore? He didn’t know, time didn’t work the same with the travelers as it did back when they had lived in a single timeline.) picked at the patch on the left side of the trenchcoat he was wearing. Tommy never brought himself to call the trenchcoat his. It had always been Wilbur’s, it’ll always continue to be Wilbur’s. He didn’t understand why he still decided to wear it or take it with him everywhere, but perhaps it was subconsciously one of his ways to help him keep track of who he is and who he used to be. That would make the most sense. Sure, the coat always made him remember bad things, but it helped him  _ remember. _ That was what was important. Not the coat’s past, and who had used it, and what blood had stained it oh so long ago… It was there to help. Not define who Tommy was and what he stood for.

As Tommy thought about the trenchcoat’s past, the tears always staining Tommy’s cheeks became just a little bit more genuine. For a moment, he could be glad for the lack of other beings in this world. Tommy sniffed and looked to the sky.

The sky had been gray ever since Tommy was first taken from this timeline, and to the Inbetween. There didn’t seem to be a real reason for it, but it fit the mood pretty well, he thought. The lands were now forever barren (other from him) and the sky had nobody to show the sun, the stars, or the moon to. It wasn’t worth it.

He yawned. Gosh, he was tired.

Tommy was always hesitant about sleeping, no matter the circumstances, as there were always things that could hurt him or people wanting to kill another version of him and barely take a chance to notice any differences between the timeline’s Tommy and the “not supposed to be there” Tommy. There was always the possibility, and he felt like he couldn’t risk it.

His home timeline, though… There was nobody,  _ nothing _ here that could kill him. (Unless, of course, a tree fell over onto him or there was an avalanche or whatever other natural disaster happened.) Maybe, Tommy could let himself sleep.

He sighs and keeps staring at the gray, gray sky. It was cold. Maybe he should go inside.

Tommy’s eyes started slipping shut before he could move. Whatever, he’d probably get sent back to the Inbetween before he could die of frostbite. He’ll be fine.

Surely.


	2. Tulips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh,” He laughed. A trembling hand wiped away his tears, but they kept coming down regardless.
> 
> Alright, he wasn’t dead. He was in his home timeline for the time being. That’s good to know.

Tommy didn’t like the Inbetween very much at the moment. It pretty much immediately placed him into his home timeline after he’d just  _ died. _ It seemed like the Inbetween had no sense of what they needed at a certain moment, because now Tommy didn’t even know if he was alive, he was alone, and he was panicking, because  _ god, what if Wilbur’s here _ -

Tommy did his best to breathe in slowly, with a pattern that Ranboo had taught him a while back, and failed. The traveler sobbed when he couldn’t seem to make himself breathe right. He hated this, so much. So fucking much.

Instead of making himself more miserable with trying to breathe properly, he moved on to counting the things surrounding him. (It was immediately put off.) Tommy shakily pulled himself off the ground, wincing when he accidentally trampled a white tulip. He mumbled a “sorry” to the poor thing.  _ When did he start sympathizing with something as small as flowers? _

He looked up hesitantly, remembering when he’d technically last seen a tulip. White and red ones, next to rose bushes, and a singular poppy, that is. It felt as if his heart had dropped to his stomach when he saw a familiar dirt shack. His ears twitched downwards. His breath hitched.

“Oh,” He laughed. A trembling hand wiped away his tears, but they kept coming down regardless.

Alright, he wasn’t dead. He was in his home timeline for the time being. That’s good to know.

“God, the Inbetween is,” He paused, trying to breathe in slowly, this time succeeding. “So shit at its job,” Tommy said to the flower he’d stepped on. He really was going insane, wasn’t he? He was talking to a flower, for fuck’s sake. He sighed, sniffling, and looked to the dirt shack again. The hybrid stared at the wooden doors sadly.

His breathing still wasn’t the best, and his tears still felt genuine enough to make him feel like trash, and now he was so tired,  _ again _ . Tommy huffed. The Inbetween seemed to be out to get them, lately. It had already gotten Tubbo. Now it’s leaving them completely alone when they least need it to happen. Who knows what sort of hell it’s trying to give Karl and Ranboo right now? Tommy shook his head to himself. Maybe he didn’t need to think about that. He doesn’t need to have another panic attack.

The hybrid’s eyes wander back to the tulip he’d stepped on. He really needs to work on his attachment issues.

The raccoon shifter leans down to gently grab the stem and pulls it out of the ground. Luckily, the only bit of the flower that was even partially broken was one of the leaves of the stem, so he’d probably be able to save it before it wilted enough. Tommy stands straighter, heading towards the wooden doors to his old shack, going inside to look around.

He notices the lack of chests there are now, compared to his beginning days of the SMP. Only one stands in the middle of the dirt room, the lid of it slightly open and cracks following throughout the whole thing. Somehow, the chest has not shattered into splinters yet. Tommy looks up. There are grass and roots starting to come down through the ceiling.

It smells more like plants and fresh dirt in here than it did blood and the scent of war that used to plague every bit of the land in the SMP, and Tommy couldn’t be happier about it. He was so tired of smelling remains of what could be considered the worst possible thing to come out of a server.

Tommy looks back down to the chest, hesitating for just a moment before he opened it up. He hoped there was a flower pot in here.

* * *

The hybrid smiled slightly as he finished patting down dirt into the flower pot, surrounding the roots and bottom stem of the white tulip. He grabbed the bucket he also found in the chest, leaned to the other side of the Prime Path, and scooped up some water. He leaned back over and spilled some into the flower pot as gently as he could.

Tommy sat back to look at the flower. He smiled a bit wider.

“I should probably find you a better place to stay, huh,” Tommy said. The wind made the tulip sway side to side as if it was saying yes to him. Tommy thought it was stupid.

“Yeah,” He mumbled as he leaned his chin onto his hand. “Maybe I’ll put you by the bench. Plenty of sunlight there, if the sun will ever come out again.” The sky, as gray as ever, with no sign of the sun coming out anytime soon, seemed to mock him by dropping a few bits of rain onto the earth. Tommy scoffed, taking the hand he was leaning on and flipping off the sky. “Yeah, yeah, fuck you too.”

Tommy laughed at himself, once more.

The tulip shook beside him like it was laughing.

* * *

When Tommy was taken back, the white tulip sat in its pot on the bench, with only the grass and the sunset and the ending of a disc playing, the music flowing through the air as it was meant to.

For the first time in weeks, the sun peaked out behind the gray clouds.

The wind still blew around softly, making the tulip’s broken leaf flutter.


	3. Vault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fuzzy ears on top of his head twitched as they pointed downwards, his striped tail coiled around his right leg. He was barely keeping himself together.
> 
> Why, of all places, did the Inbetween have to throw him into the Vault?

Tommy heard something that sounded like a mix between a distressed chirp and a purr leave his throat, curling into himself even further, trying to make himself as small as he possibly could. His hands unconsciously fisted into the trenchcoat Tommy wore over his red and white t-shirt. The fuzzy ears on top of his head twitched as they pointed downwards, his striped tail curling around his right leg. He was barely keeping himself together.

Why, of all places, did the Inbetween have to throw him into the Vault?

He once again thought about how absolute garbage the Inbetween was, treating them like they were toys and throwing them into places, which, the Inbetween very likely knew, sent them into a spiral. Tommy honestly thought the Inbetween only existed to torture someone even further than they already had been. Hell, the place had targeted the kids of the Dream SMP timelines, as if they hadn’t been beaten up and thrown around enough for simply wanting something they could rely on. For wanting something consistent. For wanting a home. For doing what they were taught to do. The Inbetween picked them up carefully as if they were expensive pieces of glass and then proceeded to throw them into a wall at a hundred miles per hour.

So, yeah. You could call the Inbetween literal Hell. Well, if you ignored the very common stereotype of hell being a literal pit of fire with no sunlight to ever be seen. (Tommy had only just noticed how similar Stereotypical Hell™ and the Nether were.) The Inbetween was pure white. There were trees and plants in most places you’d walk into, and it was quiet. Sometimes, if you listened closely enough, you could hear birds chirping along to a song you wouldn’t know or even the quiet songs of the wind the birds seemed to sing to.

  
A shiver wracked Tommy’s body, pulling another distressed chirp-purr from the back of his throat. Tears ran down his cheeks rapidly. (Not that the tears were something new, but they never ran this fast.) Tommy made the mistake of fully opening his eyes.

The Vault looked the same as it did the first and last time he’d been here. Still, with its blackstone walls and floor, the frames that once held Tommy’s prized discs, the corner with the pets and the items, the large Nether portal, the elevator. The last time Tommy had seen this place had been back when Tommy and (this timeline’s) Tubbo had fought what they thought would be the last war with Dream. Tommy sniffed at the reminder. Yeah, that day Tubbo had nearly lost his last life to Dream, multiple times. It didn’t help to think about when Tommy’s brain liked reminding him that it was his fault. It was his fault that any of this happened in the first place. None of this would’ve happened if Tommy wouldn’t keep starting useless conflicts over useless items. Wilbur wouldn’t have died, he wouldn’t have gone mad as he did. Tubbo would’ve been a happy kid like he was supposed to be, not a tired ex-president who’s had too many drugs and alcohol for a seventeen-year-old, not a kid with a town to run who looked too tired to even stand properly most of the time. Tommy… God, really, who knows if Tommy would’ve turned out much different? Dream’s always been the way he is, even if in the beginning days of the SMP, he hid it a bit better or hadn’t yet succumbed to his thoughts and urge to “protect” his “family.” 

Maybe, if Tommy had listened, things would’ve turned out at least slightly better.

There was always something in the back of his mind that told him it was Wilbur’s fault. Maybe it was, but Tommy knew he was at least partially to blame, too. They were both bad for the server, causing constant conflict and trying to illegally sell drugs and potions… they were hand-in-hand when screwing everyone (every _thing_ ) over.

Sure, if the two of them never joined, they wouldn’t have the rare good times Tommy remembered having, but in the end… It would’ve been better, huh? Sure, Tommy and Wilbur would still probably be living in Hypixel and wherever Wilbur had been before the SMP, bored out of their minds. It would’ve been better than this, at least. Better than hurting themselves, hurting other people.

Oh well, Tommy guessed, slipping his eyes shut once more. Too late to take that back now. What’s done is done. Now, it’s too late to fix this timeline, to go back and live the childhood he and Tubbo and Ranboo and everyone else deserved to have. Tommy sighed, albeit shakily, leaning his forehead on his knees.

This was why Tommy never wrote in his book. It always hurt to think about the past. About what he could’ve done better, what he could’ve prevented, what he could’ve not done. This sort of thinking used to only be used for eating something he was told not to and Phil scolded him, or when he accidentally bothered a bee’s nest and gotten stung, but things were different now.

“Shit,” Tommy said, voice scratchy, as he tried standing up. He forgot about the flower, didn't he? He needed to water it and make sure it was still standing upright so it didn’t die.

Tommy scrambled over to the Nether portal in the wall, straightening up the trenchcoat he wore. “Keep alive the only thing that seems to still be alive now, existential fright later! Shit!” He exclaimed as he tripped over his own feet. When he hit the blackstone floor face first, he let himself lay there for a moment, exhausted. “Yeah,” he spoke into the floor. “Love you too, home timeline,” Tommy spoke sarcastically.

As Tommy got up again, brushed off imaginary dirt from his shirt and the trenchcoat, and walked through the Nether portal, an axe fell out of its frame and onto the floor, clanging against the stone loudly.

The Axe of Peace shined with the Nether portal’s purple light, laying still on the blackstone floor.


End file.
